Manaborn Pt. 1 - A Mage Hunter Short Story
+ a Poem by Kibbolt
Hello fantasy readers!
I’ve elected to tweak the release schedule of some of the content I’ve been posting regularly. With Monday’s short stories, I will also be releasing poems by the halfling adventuring bard, Kibbolt. Previously I’ve released them over the weekend along with my opinion piece. I feel like combining these in this way makes more sense and gives you more bang for your buck (though it’s all free so no complaints!)
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First, enjoy the short poem, then down below I’ll briefly tell you about this exciting short story I cooked up!
Den of Vipers – by Kibbolt
The cave echoes a foreboding melody of shaking rattles.
A series of eyes landing a petrifying gaze.
A swipe of their fangs will make the heart shatter.
We tread carefully, not to suffer a graze,
to parlay with vicious snakes,
in order to save face.
A life on the line, a deal must be done.
No other options, he is the one.
A leader of vipers who can address,
and save this fool from certain death,
a case I must rest, wishing everyone the best.
May the gods guide my tongue.
If you’ve seen my article on underexplored genres, cosmic horror is one I feel has a lot of potential. The type of fear and dread cosmic horror brings as opposed to other subgenres of horror is unique, and arguably takes more skill to nail down. That’s what I hope to achieve with this short story I present to you!
I wanted to make this into a single part, but there were so many ideas to explore I just had to split it into two separate parts.
So enjoy part one of this short story!
For Part Two, you can click the link below!
Manaborn - Part 1
“Jordan!” a farmer cried out with a vigor of passionate annoyance, “Jordan heavens damn it! Get your lazy ass over here and help already!” The grandfather, sore in back thanks to the hefty casket, was a hairs length away of offering his belligerent son a thrashing. With a grunt, he hoisted another onto a cart, destined for the neighbors to the north.
“Alright alright, pipe down, geezer,” the teen rudely answered as he approached from around the farmhouse. The grandfather’s scolding face turned into awe as he witnessed a miracle; the barrels and crates levitated seemingly all on their own, one by one loading onto the cart.
“What in blazes…!” he huffed, fixing his specs questioning his vision. He turned his eyes onto the lad, who held his hand up, glowing softly, moving in tandem with the supplies. “When did you learn magic?”
The lad shrugged, “I don’t know. It just… kinda came to me.” With what would have been an hour of work for the farmer by himself was completed within minutes. What was most surprising was how natural it seemed to him, not even showing an ounce of struggle, despite his claim of suddenly stumbling upon arcane knowledge.
“I don’t believe it…” The grandfather stood for a moment in amazement. When the old man reclaimed his senses, he walked up to the boy and smacked him against the back of the head.
“Ow! What the hell?!”
“You should be doing all the yard work now! Leaving your crippled old man to lift all this heavy crap!”
The teen rubbed the sore spot, likely bruised under his ginger hair. “Fine! But you should make Jess do some as well. She got the gift too.”
The revelation was like a godsend unto the family. It wasn’t just Jordan and Jess who miraculously awakened with the gift, but their mother and father too. After some time, even the grandfather was able to ignite a cantrip – unheard of for someone of his old age who never had access to this power. Their daily duties and chores were interrupted, practicing and playing around with their newfound abilities, casting spells they assumed would take great training.
Word spread, and it wasn’t just Jordan’s family, but their neighbors also unlocked the gift. Over time, more and more of the village acquired the skills of incantation. One by one, they were blessed, as if by a mysterious god who chose them.
***
The mage hunters ventured passed the farm fields, freshly replenished by a light spring rain, clouds broken by the beams of sunlight. Steppenwulf’s nose itched at the fresh scent, while his companions were fully able to enjoy this nature. Five were in their number, trotting on their mighty steeds across the southern roads towards Crestmoore, a humble village filled with rumors of missing travelers.
“Before we get too far, ya’ didn’t forget the messenger stones this time, right?” the thick dwarven accent of Jorghan pierced through the wind.
“Of course not!” Steppenwulf countered bitterly.
“Good to hear, looks like you’re staying with us the whole-time buddy,” the halfling ranger, Tolkoy, patted his thick finger on the head of a red and white kestrel perched on his shoulder. “By the way Clyde, what do you think of these awakening rumors?”
“I pray they are fake,” the human scowled, a counter-magic aspirant formerly trained under Tychon. “That village has a population of like what… five-hundred? If they all can cast magic that’ll be too much for all of our guild to handle, let alone us.” The miraculous rate, and skill these humble villagers acquired with the gift, were speculated as fiction. However, the missing travelers and merchants were a real concern, and a possible connection involving the potential misuse of magic is the mandate the mage hunters were called towards.
“Surely they all aren’t conspiring to kidnap travelers, right?” The elven druid, Embris questioned.
“Would be pretty fucked up if that were the case.”
“Hey, come on now, don’t swear in front of the fucking girl,” Tolkoy jested, “chivalry and all that crap.”
“You ain’t tall enough to be my daddy, so shut your trap.”
“I am big enough to be.”
Jorghan released a heavy laugh while Embris facepalmed, shaking her head. “Bunch of idiots you lot are.”
Their journey took two days across the wide-open plains, made uneventful, except for a group of angered wild boars that were swiftly turned into bacon. The village lied next to a river with a light forest line on its eastern side. Small. Humble. Seemingly innocuous. As the horses carried them, they could see the villagers going about their day to day lives. The handfuls on the streets were either buying goods from the farmers, or chopping down trees for lumber. However, the rumors were immediately proven true; logs levitated by the dozen as trees grew exponentially in their place, children were performing extraordinary light shows, a few gardeners hovered high in the air summoning water over their plants, and a group of men standing before a house casting illusion magic in a debate of what color to “paint” it.
The abundant use of magic observed triggered a profound look on the mage hunters. “Geez… not even the arcane college uses magic this liberally,” Clyde hopped off his steed, the others following his stead.
“I never seen anything like this,” commented Steppenwulf, speaking volumes with his seniority.
“Aye… my gut is churning something fowl – and not from the boars.” Jorghan warned with an instinctual scowl.
A middle-aged human noticed the group and approached, sporting a white shirt and overalls. “Hello travelers, welcome to Crestmoore Village. Come, perch your horses at the stables and let me show you around.” With caution, they agreed and followed him. They observed something estranged in his tone, but chalked it up to a subtle, yet odd accent. “I’m Leon,” he continued, “I work with the chief to help keep things running.”
“Sounds like you got that covered… in spades,” Tolkoy commented.
“Ahh yes! You can see all our hard workers making great use of the gift – ah!” he turned and approached, his seemingly glowing eyes landed on both Embris and Clyde, “and I see a couple of you have been blessed!” Both their brows furrowed as they wondered how he knew right away. “It must be so wonderful to be able to use the weave. Maybe one day you all will awaken like we have!”
The two of them returned an estranged gaze back at him. Clyde responded, “Yeeeaah. About that, how long ago did you become awakened?”
Leon’s face twitched suspiciously. “Ohh… forgive me. Time feels lost since it occurred. I think it was about a week or two ago. It first started with Bobby’s kids, and then the arcane blessed us all!”
“I see…”
“Is that what brings you all out here? To become awakened?” His eyes sparked in a flash of blue light, returning an estranged grin.
Steppenwulf interjected, “No. We were sent by the crown to investigate disappearances of travelers. Would you happen to know anything about it?”
“Oh most unfortunate. You have my sincerest condolences. But no, I am unaware of any… disappearances. You are all welcome to stay if you so please, we can have a new house built for you in a matter of hours!”
“We appreciate it, but we are going to camp outside the village as we conduct our investigation.” Before Leon could respond he added, “Where can we find your chief?”
“Yes he should be at the village hall, the big building towards the center with the flag on it.”
After concluding their conversation with him, Steppenwulf called his team to convene away with a pressing command, “Do not tell them we’re mage hunters. It can cause a panic.”
Conjointly, they responded, “Yes sir!”
Clyde raised his hand, “Before we split off, anyone else notice something… strange about the magic they’re using?”
“What do you mean?” Tolkoy asked.
“I don’t know if you’ve seen the logs they were levitating, but when they moved… they appeared stretched, or elongated at times.”
Embris folded her arms, “The trees that grew in their place were odd too. They didn’t grow like normal. It’s supposed to grow consistently from the root. These ones they summoned grew in a series of thin columns.”
“I warned ye… nothing ‘bout this feels right!” Jorghan reminded.
“Remain calm. Find out as much you can, and we will regroup outside the village at the road we came from. “
The mage hunters went forth into pairs of two and three, walking around the village, asking questions and looking for anything out of place – a task made difficult thanks to everything moving and changing through their magics. Clyde approached a woman magically removing dirt from clothes in her yard, with the dwarf at his side. After a brief introduction, he continued the questioning, “How long have you been here?”
“All my life, though after I awakened, I can’t seem to recall when that started truth be told,” she let out a chuckle, sporting an odd gleeful smile.
“I see… and when did you awaken?”
“Around the same time as everyone else, about a few weeks ago?”
Jorghan interjected, “have ye noticed anythin’ strange, besides these awakenings?”
“No no, since then everything has been going…” She paused, her smile became tense for a split moment, “incredible!”
He added without paying attention to her demeanor, “Have ye noticed any travelers coming by?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t know anything about that. I’ve been so wrapped up playing around with these spells,” she released an erratic sigh, maintaining her estranged grin. “I’m sure the chief would though.”
Meanwhile, Steppenwulf, Embris, and Tolkoy approached the chief at the town hall. He was seen in the foyer with a small group of carpenters, levitating near the rafters with them as they seemed to debate how to improve the interior of the building. “Excuse me,” Steppenwulf called, “Chief Callahan, care to come down for a moment? We have a few questions to ask you.”
“Yes yes! Give me one second!” He floated gently down in an estranged dance, as if high on a drug, “Ahh! Travelers! Welcome! Thank you for coming! What can I do for you all?”
“We were sent by the crown to investigate some disappearances. We were hoping you’d know something about any travelers who came passing by.”
“Why yes of course of course! I apologize for the concern, but everyone who came by decided to stay. They were all equally enthralled at our humble village and our blessings,” he then pointed towards the elven druid, with a wide mouthed smile, “just like the blessing she has!”
Embris stepped back, afraid of being touched when the chief moved forward. Steppenwulf narrowed his eyes as he thought about the consequences if this were true. Yet no matter how he pieced it together, something didn’t smell right to his mighty nose. “Is that so? Would you be willing to introduce us to any of these travelers then?”
“Of course, my wolf friend! Just don’t be surprised if you all make the same decision too!” he let out an ominous, yet sincere chuckle.
After a series of interviews, they reconvened away from potential brown-nosers. Other than the estrange influx of arcane awakenings, and the demeanor of the villagers and visitors, they could not discover anything conclusive about any wrong-doing. The villagers corroborated the chief’s statement, yet there was an air of suspicion, especially in Clyde who felt stinging goosebumps come over him. His breathing drew deeper, pronounced enough to give Jorghan concern, interrupting Steppenwulf’s sitrep, “Lad, ye doing alright?”
Clyde’s intuition was sharp, and he knew something was wrong stirring inside him. Without a word, Clyde posed his hands and incanted, calling forth the arcane into his eyes. A look of confusion took over, but Tolkoy pointed out his concerning expression, “Hey, use your words buddy, what’s going on?”
Clyde remained silent at first, raising eyebrows as he tried to comprehend what he’s seeing, “I’m…not sure. The mana in this area is completely discolored. All the trails have blackened splotches, as if infected with leprosy or something.”
Embris scrunched her face, “What about us?”
He gazed his eyes onto her, “No, you seem fine.” He then looked down onto his hands, observing the trails of the ethereal smoke. His face turned sour, “Damn. Whatever it is it might’ve afflicted me.”
“Aye… what if it afflicts us too? Could this be what gave all ye villagers their powers?” Jorghan questioned.
“Calm down. We don’t even know what it is yet.” Steppenwulf reasoned.
“Don’t know about y’all, but I’d rather not find out,” Tolkoy spat, his bird repeating the sentiment with chirps.
“Hold on, let me try something,” Clyde channeled the weave once more through his hands. His palms pressed against his chest and he called “Dispel.”
A moment of anticipation followed, “Well?” Embris asked.
“I think – yeah that’s better,” the aspirant sighed relief. “Much better, like night and day.” His eyes tiled up to the party, “We have to move fast to figure this out, whatever it is.”
As the sun settled, Embris summoned her companions at the discovery of an abandoned wagon tilted near the brush line. Crates of food spoiled, while other goods of clothing and wine were miraculously left untouched. The kestrel’s eyes fixated on one of the barrels. It flew from Tolkoy’s shoulder and landed on the lid before tapping its beak repeatedly. “Hey buddy, what’s going on here?”
“Find something?” Steppenwulf inquired.
“Let’s see…” he grunted as he went to hoist the tight lid, interrupted as the barrel shook, an unexpected movement caused an instant of panic, the kestrel flying away on top of a nearby tree branch. A muttering of whimpers immediately became apparent, muffled by the wood. Tolkoy looked at his companions, and their arms drawn preparing for conflict. He braced himself as he lifted the lid.
“DON’T! PLEASE!” A panicked cry echoed from a balding, gnomish man who kept his arms out defensively.
“Whoa whoa relax relax!” Tolkoy reassured, “We are here to help you, sir!”
“I don’t want any help! I just want to go home!”
Steppenwulf moved forward with quick thinking, “We are not from the village. We are from the city by the crown guard.”
His panicking whimpers slowly subsided along with his panicked breaths. “You… you’re not from… here?”
“Correct. Let us get you out of there so you can tell us what happened.”
Out of the barrel, the gnome appeared disheveled with his dusty, wrinkled clothes, and bags under his eyes indicating a lack of rest. After his introduction, the gnome elaborated, “these villagers… there all nuts! I tried to warn them, but they were too damn foolish to even listen to me! We were supposed to drop off some of these goods and then head to Eskanore but… after my companions were told about these awakenings – I knew something was up. Always trusted my gut! We stayed a night, but they wanted to stay another, and another. I tried to tell them we need to move, but they became hostile towards me! We’ve traveled thousands of miles, years spent together delivering goods I… hardly recognize them anymore.”
“Did they awaken?”
“Oh yes! And if it weren’t under these circumstances, I would have loved to celebrated with them! But when I threatened to leave, they… tried to force me to stay! Chased me around until I managed to escape their gaze. Their… haunting…blue gaze.” The gnome froze, trying to reconcile the trauma. He snapped himself out of his stupor when shook his head, “I’ve been trying to nab a horse and high tail it, but haven’t had success without getting caught.”
“Don’t worry lad,” Jorghan reassured, “We will take care of ye.”
“Bless your souls!”
Clyde turned to Steppenwulf, “I think we should send a message to the guild. We need priests, and arcanists from the college. We need to quarantine this village.”
“Hmm… You’re likely right. Whatever this is, it does seem infectious,” the wolf man pulled from his pouch a black stone carved into a perfect, smooth rectangle. With it next to his maw, he spoke into it, “Code 405 at Crestmoore Village. Contamination is magical in nature. Send any able-bodied magi and priests to quarantine the area. Urgency is required.” A crunching snap of his grip and the stone crumbled into flakes – the message has been sent. “Here’s what we’re going to do in the meantime. We will patrol the roads and redirect any possible travelers that come by,” he turned to the worried gnome, “Bear with us, we will get you home as soon as possible.”
“As long as I’m away from these… lunatics that’s all that matters! For now.”
Embris stepped forward and suggested, “We could procure him a horse, and I can see if I could call a companion to escort him.”
“Oh that would be most splendid deary!” he reached up and shook her hand sporadically.
Tolkoy successfully brought one of their steeds, absent of any unwanted attention, while the druid conducted a ritual involving a circle of leaves and branches, glowing green under her channeling. Her voice was a myriad of animal noises, from huffs to groans. After a painstaking five minutes, she concluded her ritual. Embris turned to the gnome, “you’re in good hands!” she assured, permitting him to smile.
“It’s better to leave in the morning, obviously, Tolkoy suggested, “You can camp with us until then.”
“Thank you all so much for your help.”
The night persisted in a wave of anxiety; a night made as long as winter. Despite the distance of their established camp, everyone anticipated a stray villager coming by, or perhaps something worse. There shouldn’t be a reason to fear, especially of a measly spell-casting citizen, yet the night skies left an oppressive air. Something alien was among them; observing them like a scrying eye. Yet, they could not discern whether this thing even exists, or whether it’s their own paranoia plaguing them.
A shuffling was heard among the brush. Apprehension fueled the speed of their weapons, drawn near instantly into hands, but Embris stood and stepped forth, gesturing to lower their guard, “It’s okay, she’s here.” They all seemed to have forgotten about her animal companion. A large brown bear revealed its head peered through the brush, greeted with a gentle scratching on the chin by the druid, giving off a heft purr. “She will escort you safely to Eskanore.
“Ahh… I almost had a heart attack. Again, thank you so much,” he bowed to both of them.
Hours passed into Clyde’s shift, maintaining his watchful eyes to allow his companions an attempt of rest. The sense of unease came over him once more, identical to the feelings he had previously.
This time, he sensed it coming from someone – the gnome. His eyes darted for him, and he saw him squirm around in what seemed like a restless nightmare. He hesitated, debating whether to intervene. Instead, he unleashed his arcane eye once more, and the shocking sight of a splotched web of mana swallowing him caused him to jump in an attempt of rescue. “Hey! Hey wake up what’s wrong?” He shook the small man.
The gnome squirmed more, his movements almost turning into a seizure, “Ngh… no… stop! Let… go!”
“Guys! Get up!” Clyde shouted to his companions.
They were slow to rise, but Steppenwulf was the first. “Ngh… what’s wrong?” his fangs and claws glistened under the moonlight, peering through the trees.
The gnome’s movements became more sporadic, his limbs contorting as if a possession was occurring. “Ngh! Ahh! Yes! Yes! The mana! Ha ha! I see it now! Oh this power!” his cries were at risk of being heard from the village, “I was foolish to deny it! Yes – NO! Ngh! Agh! Get it out! Get it out!”
“Clyde, dispel damn it!” Tolkoy reminded.
“Right!” Clyde held his hands up and reached forward. The arcane surged through his body. As he channeled the mana.
“GET…. OUT!” The gnome defied the allusive force, but it fought back in a storm of lighting from the fingertips. Clyde took the brunt of the blast, knocked over the pile of the cold ash of the spent campfire, preventing his incantation.
Happy Thursday